


Back In Black

by RisingEmpress



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Did I mention leather?, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Kinky with a side of fluff?, Leather Kink, M/M, Massage, Teasing, Very light foot fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingEmpress/pseuds/RisingEmpress
Summary: Hannibal shows up in unusual attire. Will's interest is unexpectedly peaked.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87





	Back In Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a poll I did on Twitter, so... Don’t blame me. *innocent shrug*

Will had never in his life gone through his entire wardrobe trying on item after item of clothing fitting for the occasion. Luckily Hannibal was running late, although the soft smattering of rain against roof tiles has him mildly concerned. It’d be cold, that’s for sure. The roads would be slick. He shoots a glance to the clock and swears the reason Hannibal has yet to arrive is an accident on the road, and just as he imagines Hannibal’s bloody body torn and stretched along asphalt the sound of heavy heels against wood brings his heart rate back down again.

“Will, I must insist we--” Hannibal stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the door, neck giving a small twitch in amusement. “Something funny?”

From tip to toe, every inch of Hannibal’s tall and lean frame is covered in leather. Black, sleek and expensive. Boots that could crush bones with little effort, pants that are just snug enough to allow the imagination some help along the way, the jacket that Hannibal haphazardly unzips halfway with gloved hands.

Will doesn’t know whether it’s arousal or laughter that spurs to life from deep within. An excited smile tugs at his lips as his gaze works its way up Hannibal’s body. He doesn’t even want to think about what a mess he looks himself; one sock halfway up his foot to be paired by tattered pants and an ugly shirt that aren’t even close to matching, hair tangled from the incessant change of clothes. No, he definitely doesn’t want to think about that.

Will finally lets out something resembling a laugh, face heating up in a fiery red as he swallows excess saliva. “No. No, I just-- I didn’t expect.. This look.” he gestures vaguely to Hannibal’s almost vintage-like villainous form.

Even the most miniscule of expressions or reactions consistently catches Will’s eye, as if he could see the cogs rotating in Hannibal’s mind as he stays motionless by the door for a moment. “It’s all according to the safety regulations,” he finally says, gaze lowered to the floor as he enters the room with clear insecurity in every step. “Avoiding traffic wouldn’t come without risk.”

“No need for unnecessary suffering,” Will agrees, still sporting a charmed smile and completely unable to tear his eyes away. Instead of blatantly reassuring his beloved _motorcyclist-serial killing-cannibal_ he turns back to the mirror and pretends to struggle with the buttons on his shirt. Better to make him feel useful. “I’m glad your recklessness isn’t what it used to be. _Oh_ \--”

Leather clad arms snake around his shoulders from behind, stiff gloves curling fingers around the collar of Will’s shirt before snapping it open skillfully enough to keep all buttons intact. Not that Will cares, especially not when Hannibal’s breath warms the back of Will’s neck, causing a shiver down his spine and the blood in his body to rush to his crotch. He can do nothing but breathe.

“Do you need my assistance?” Hannibal almost purrs, slipping the shirt over Will’s shoulders and down his arms, letting it drop to the floor before leaning Will back against his chest. Small dots of rain sticks leather to skin and it’s such an unfamiliar sensation Will struggles to pinpoint how he feels about it. The material is cold from the wind and rough against his skin, but Hannibal’s chest oozes of warmth and stability, and his touch remains comforting and enticing along Will’s chest.

The mirror gives Will his answer. The look of his exposed torso twitching with every breath underneath two strong arms squeezing with possessiveness, tender hands caressing his chest and brushing foreign material past his nipples. His bulge is obscenely apparent. He breathes a “yes” and instantly feels a joyous spark of excitement.

Hannibal gives an approving nod before half-leading half- _manhandling_ Will to sit on the edge of the bed. The sight of Hannibal towering over him as he steps closer thrusts Will into a complete loss of control; letting out a sigh that’s more of a moan before clutching a fist in Hannibal’s jacket and pulls him close enough to bury his face in Hannibal’s crotch. The scent and feel of the leather is excitingly alien to him, but the slight twitch of Hannibal’s hips and the low moan at the back of his throat is comfortingly familiar.

“Patience.” Hannibal flashes a small smile as he wraps a hand around Will’s jaw and pushes him back until he willingly lies down on the silky smooth bed. The stretch releases a knot in his spine, but he misses the harshness of Hannibal’s jacket terribly.

The blank, white ceiling mocks him. The soft mattress is patronizing. He wants to beg, but knows it only entices Hannibal that much more. He bites his tongue when gloved hands trail down his hips, swiftly undoing the button of his pants as the cold metal of dangling zippers dance against his skin. _Yes, yes, yes_ \--

“Please.” Will breaks his façade, squirming on the bed and pressing his hips up to hopefully meet a torturous, textured hand. With the movement Hannibal pulls the pants down, gracing him with a heavy handed stroke between his legs before leaning back to pull his pants off the rest of the way.

Will gets utterly lost, moaning for more of anything at all and clutching the sheets to stop himself from changing his mind and rejecting Hannibal’s offer to “help”. He barely registers how Hannibal rests a hand on the arch of his foot, slipping the sock off before pressing his thumb against the sole and kneading out tensions.

“You’re not helping,” Will tries to sound accusatory but the words only come out a whine. The leather palms provide a suffocating warmth around his ankle, and he wiggles the leg that remains free only to find Hannibal’s lap. In order to gain attention or just to throw Hannibal off, Will nudges his foot against the leather bulge between his thighs. He can now safely say without a single doubt that the material is a complete turn on. Better not mention it or he’ll be swimming in it for all eternity.

Hannibal sounds awfully pleased; releasing Will’s captive foot only to pay attention to the other one instead. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, Will. Let me appreciate you.”

Will doesn’t take a moment to consider the offer. All he considers is whether or not he should kick his hopeless romantic across the face, but he settles on sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed, grabbing the collar of Hannibal’s jacket as he slides down into his lap with bare thighs wrapped around rough material and harsh zippers. Hannibal smiles when Will does.

“Maybe if we’re apart for longer than five hours, Hannibal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling light as a _leather_.
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter @ mikkelsmads 🖤


End file.
